The Duchess and the General
by Gabri Jade
Summary: Obi-Wan's life never fails to surprise. AU.


She was the Duchess of Mandalore. She was the leader of the New Mandalorians, a reformist political faction. She was a staunch pacifist.

And she was the lover of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master and General of the Clone Army.

It was to all outward appearances an odd match, but they were meant to be.

It began as nothing more than politics. Master Kenobi was assigned by the Jedi Council to travel to Mandalore and speak with the leaders of the rival factions. He failed to broker peace, but then, even the famed Negotiator couldn't necessarily overcome prejudices and rivalries so deeply entrenched. Still, progress was made.

Then Master Kenobi met Duchess Satine Kryze.

Her beauty was legendary, but Master Kenobi wasn't so easily swayed. Her charismatic personality hadn't been done justice by dry Council reports, but his focus remained. Her political beliefs were noble, but he'd met many with such.

No, it was the combination of all three that did him in—as well as the fated nature of their attraction.

For the Duchess and the General were the sort of couple that only comes along once in a very great while, the sort that, in other circumstances, in another lifetime, would have lived long and devoted lives together. Despite their differences, there was a core of understanding between them: a meeting of minds and souls. A kinder galaxy would have granted them the lasting love which they were obviously designed to share.

Unfortunately, their time together was brief. A single passionate night was all that either could offer the other. Still, their memories and love lived on, sustaining them through the darkness of conflict and war, and their hope of meeting again never flickered. Perhaps they couldn't manage the blissful domesticity of a committed and stable relationship, but they could aspire to stolen moments of passion—

"_Anakin_!"

The heads of the half-dozen adolescent padawans seated in a semicircle in front of the storyteller snapped around at the voice, and a half-dozen sets of eyes widened in unison. Not-quite-suppressed squeals and snickers were heard, though whether they were in reaction to the story or being caught by its protagonist was unclear.

Obi-Wan strode forward, glaring at them all. "Haven't any of you assignments that need to be carried out?"

The group scrambled to its collective feet, accompanied by the sound of multiple murmured "Yes, sir"'s.

Obi-Wan glared for a moment longer, then said sternly, "You're dismissed. Tend to your duties, and next time don't stop to listen to idle gossip."

There was another chorus of "Yes, sir", and the padawans, now appropriately shamefaced, scattered. Which left only one troublemaker, and his expression was completely unrepentant. As usual.

"You really do need to lighten up, Obi-Wan," Anakin said, grinning.

"_Lighten up_?" Obi-Wan felt dangerously close to sputtering, and took a deep breath before continuing. "I have told you before, Anakin, it was a _business meeting_. Nothing—_illicit_ occurred."

"That's what you say," Anakin agreed, rising and nonchalantly smoothing his tunic.

"That's what I—" This time he did sputter, and fell to outraged silence.

Anakin grinned some more. "You _were_ alone with her for quite some time, Master. And she _is_ very beautiful. Principled, too. Just your type."

"I do not have 'a type'," Obi-Wan said, slowly and carefully.

Anakin crossed his arms over his chest and regarded him with what could only be described as glee. "Oh, but you do, Master. Strong, principled—blonde."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and he closed it again.

"After all," Anakin continued, "the Code doesn't forbid love, or attraction. Only commitment. A one-night stand—or two—isn't technically an contravention of the Code."

Obi-Wan slowly counted to ten in his head. "There was no one-night stand. There certainly were not multiple one-night stands. And even if there had been—which there was _not_—it is hardly a story to tell padawans!"

"Do you think they haven't heard such stories at that age?" Anakin asked, obviously amused. "Anyway, they need to be prepared for whatever—distractions future missions might put in their path, wouldn't you say?"

"Such as unwarranted gossip, perhaps?" Obi-Wan asked, narrowing his eyes.

"That too," Anakin agreed, looking thoroughly irrepressible. "If it cannot be avoided, one might as well enjoy it. Wouldn't you say so?"

Obi-Wan lowered his face into his hands and counted to ten again before raising his eyes once more to Anakin's. "Anakin, you know of my reputation for patience? You do realize that you are the cause for my learning such a thing in the first place, don't you? And that you are currently trying it greatly?"

Anakin inclined his head, but his eyes still danced knowingly. "Then I have helped you become the respected Jedi that you are, Master. And am helping you further refine your already advanced skills."

Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over his forehead, then sighed. "It's a good thing for all concerned that the Order does forbid committed relationships, Anakin. The Force itself would be hard-pressed to keep pace were you to have children and pass on your more endearing traits."

Anakin laughed. "I beg to differ, Master. A line of Skywalkers could be just what the galaxy needs."

"If it could survive the impact," Obi-Wan muttered.

"There's always that," Anakin admitted cheerfully. "Now if you'll excuse me, I also have duties that need to be attended to."

He sketched a polite bow and strode off, leaving Obi-Wan to glare at his receding back, then sigh again and resume his own course toward the Council chambers and the meeting that awaited him. If the Force was kind—dubious, considering his fortune with padawans—none of the other Masters would hear of this gossip. How such stories began was truly beyond him.

"A type," indeed.


End file.
